The Second Vision
by BLSH
Summary: "I'm not doing fine, Van." He played with the idea that if he woke Escaflowne now and flew as far as he could in the direction towards the Mystic Moon, he might just end up somewhere near her again. "We shouldn't have parted, Hitomi."


White curtails rustled as the night time breeze blew into Hitomi Kanzaki's room. On hot nights like this, she missed him terribly, missed his warmth, his smell, and even the itch she felt when his bangs fell down on her eyelashes. In a summer delirium such as this one, she could have sworn sometimes that the hot wind coming from her window was his breath above her breasts, his breath above her cheeks, his breath upon her hips. Anything of his upon her hips, her everything.

Hitomi gathered her pillows around her body like soft shields and nestled in the space she created for herself, trying to recreate even an ounce of protection she felt when he was around. The promise they made to each other didn't seem too much of a promise now. It wasn't as easy as she thought it would be.

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><p><em>But we can see each other anytime, right? So long as our thoughts reach each other.<em>

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><p><em>I didn't even get to kiss him, <em>she thought, the longing underneath her skin percolating as if ready to come out of her pores.

She ran her fingers over her cheeks and neck, pretending her hands were his. As her fingernails grazed her breasts, she arched her back, wondering if he would like what he saw underneath him—the image of her reacting to his ministrations as he induced a fever in her body. She couldn't even fathom the thought of them making love while his wings were spread above them, an otherworldly sight, magnificent, erotic. She knew she will always keep coming back to this thought.

Hitomi turned to her side and placed a pillow between her legs. Ankles hooked together, she pressed the pillow closer to her womanhood, hoping to quell the ache in that junction of desperate yearning and love, but that attempt was unsuccessful. She found only the opposite reaction: She wanted to be with him more. It was almost embarrassing to feel what she was feeling in her home.

This wanton feeling never went away, she had to confess to herself; it was only masked by the dreariness of daily routine. But more powerful than physical longing was the loneliness she was always aware of while walking along the street, hearing a line of a song, watching her parents share a story or preparing a meal for one.

She left the great love of her young life for the convenience of history and home. She wondered if she had gotten the definition of home right.

"I'm not doing fine, Van."

Her eyes burned with the birth of tears.

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><p>Van Fanel sat on the edge of his bed, shirtless and clenching his teeth. His elbows were perched rigidly on his knees while sweat beaded on his brown brow. His right leg flinched involuntarily, but the movement didn't stop him from forcefully cupping his calloused hands together.<p>

It was one of those nights again—when he couldn't stop thinking about her. He didn't mind thinking about her all morning and afternoon, which was the new reality he had to embrace the moment she gravitated away from him almost two years ago. He inappropriately remembered Allen's voice.

_It's only been a couple of years. Your feelings for her are still raw. They will soften their grip eventually_, the Knight Caeli had said. But his experience with love was different. Van believed he had never known the kind of love he and Hitomi shared. This worried him immensely. No one in Gaea or the Mystic Moon could be in love like them.

Although he felt it was a dishonour to his brother's memory, he still played with the idea that if he woke Escaflowne now and flew as far as he can in the direction of the Mystic Moon, he might just end up somewhere near her again. He could find Hitomi then and tell her they shouldn't have parted.

_I'm not doing fine, Van._

"We shouldn't have parted, Hitomi."

Then, as if there was a cord of emotions connecting them, he swore he felt the uncomfortable heat inside her, a contrast to the cooler touch of her pendant hanging against his chest. He jerked upright from his bed and paced around his room in angry strides. He reached his balcony, and let the steady flow of wind push against his bare chest, calming him down. He could have burned holes in the Mystic Moon for staring at it so intensely.

He had to call her back somehow. The pendant, the energist, the Ispano Guymelef, sheer will, strong love: they could be the ingredients of her return—or his arrival to wherever she was. He found himself overcome with a determination so concentrated that the hair on his forearms rose at attention and he felt the itch of beading sweat all around his scalp. The pendant grew heavy hanging on his neck. He wondered how desperate and indomitable he had to be before the familiar pillar of light surrounded his body.

The young king turned away from the night sky, and stood idly where he was, the motions of his chest rising and deflating being the only signs there was any life in his dark room. He huffed as if he was in a fit of distress, and vowed that if he had to ride the moonlight to get to her, he would.

At that moment, he had never felt so many hard emotions at the same time in his life. He reached for his sword.

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><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I do not own The Vision of Escaflowne.


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